


Light as a Feather

by Bimo



Category: The Nice Guys (2016)
Genre: Chinese Food, Christmas, Family Feels, Family History, Gen, Hanukkah, Historical References, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 13:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bimo/pseuds/Bimo
Summary: Last Christmas, March had phoned from a restaurant on South Flower street. You would never guess March was Jewish by looking at him.





	Light as a Feather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mamcine_Oxfeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mamcine_Oxfeather/gifts).



> Lots of thanks go to Storystuff (M-brainmentality2 on Tumblr) for organising all of this and for being such an encouraging and wonderful last minute beta! :)

LIGHT AS A FEATHER  


**1978**

Holly had drawn Jack her family tree once, slightly trimmed down, paternal line only. She still remembered all the names, dates and relations from some ancestry and migration project at school. “Social studies,” she had explained triumphantly and then put her index finger right next to a name one generation removed from her tree’s root.

“See, _Albert Benjamin Masch 1832-1898_. This is the guy who changed our last name when he and his wife came to California and opened their paint shop.”

Jack had looked at the letters. S into r, Masch into March, easily done with one stroke of a pen. You would never guess March was Jewish by looking at him. March, tall, blonde and blue-eyed. March, who even on a good day would exclaim “Jesus Christ!” or “Jeez!” two dozen times before sundown. And yet, in essence, still the same faith his 19th century ancestors had brought across the Atlantic.

“Reform, German strand. Trust me, it’s quite different from Orthodox,” Holly had said, “But we still fuss about food more than you’d think.”

***

Jack had known this for sure since last Christmas, roughly two months into his acquaintance with March, when his then-brand-new-employer slash business partner slash friend had phoned from a restaurant on South Flower street, sounding still on the okay side of drunk and positively genuine.

“What? You’re not with all the other folks, partying down at the Comedy Store? Yeah, Jack, I know, it’s _very_ last minute, but Holly and I were wondering, I mean, if you want to. It’s not really Christmassy, but- ”

The place that March and his daughter had invited him to, proved small but nice, the decoration more low key than Jack had expected. One sparkling plastic tree next to the entrance was the only concession, other than painted-on silk screens showing waterfalls and a pair of cranes at a riverbank. Also likely the best Dim Sum Jack had ever eaten, even though he would always remember them now for March’s reaction when he had offered him one.

“I bet they are great, but if I don’t draw the line at shrimp and pork filling, I don’t know where else,” March had said, looking weirdly shy, awkward and young all of a sudden.

How the penny had finally dropped at that moment.

“Know what? I still feel like another round of those things. Fish or veggie okay?” Jack had replied in a voice that sounded surprisingly firm to his ears. Then he had called for the waitress. Small, self-evident courtesies that went without saying.

***

The tougher, knife-edged side of it all only surfaced once in a while. No, not March’s Hitler ramblings. Those you could easily file under venting, getting piled up frustrations out of his system. But the stuff others did, had always done.

Just last month, March had walked out on a client, not only irate, appalled, but visibly sick for minutes. All because of that lady’s remark how those terrible hippies nowadays populating the streets ought to be hauled off to some place in the woods and get taught a lesson. Vermin was the exact term she had used. Southern accent, so poison sweet and overwhelmingly friendly. The most casual chit chat tone in the world.

They had driven all the way out to Santa Monica afterwards, to get that lady’s stench of _Eau de Cologne_ out of their clothes and her words drowned out, erased by the waves.

“I was treasure hunting, Jack,” March had finally said, looking up from his ice cream and gazing into the watery distance. “Pretending to be fucking Jim Hawkins, when I discovered my dad’s copy of LIFE magazine in a box up in the attic, the spring 1945 issue with all the camp pictures. Maybe that’s why I try to stay under the radar so much. People get that funny look in their eyes once you tell them.”

Jack hadn’t known what to reply at that moment, but instead had just reached for March’s hand. Thank God, the pier had been empty enough for that kind of gesture to exist in broad daylight, out in the open.

***

So much water under the bridge, so many ways you could screw up without even wanting or knowing.

Jack felt there was a certain cosmic irony to the fact that his first proper Christmas with March and Holly - one that didn’t involve last minute phone calls but living under one roof, sharing one bed with March - should take place in a year when holidays intermingled. Perfect match, bingo, full points. First day of Hanukkah right on the 24th of December.

“It’s about time now, let’s do this,” March said as all three of them watched the low-standing sun from their dining room window.

To Jack, the whole set-up on the window ledge looked more cheerful, pragmatic and bright than truly dignified. Nine different sized, different coloured candles, one of them, somewhat taller, more slender, apparently just to light the others.

He couldn’t tell in the end what it was that made his heart feel deep and wide, yet at the same time light as a feather. The look on March and Holly’s faces as they sang their blessings? The later, more Christmassy part of the evening, all complete with tree, Chinese delivery food and a round of Monopoly?

Who knew, and who cared?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! :)
> 
> When I read the original fic request for a Jewish March family Christmas, I knew at once that I wanted to try and write this. Hopefully I haven't screwed up too badly.


End file.
